


Homeostasis

by Outside_Context_Problem



Series: The Troll War [8]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: A bunch of worldbuilding digression, Admiralty and the starched uniforms thereof., Comparative species building techniques, Conspiracy!, Discussions of enlightenment religions beliefs pertaining to revolutionary principles, Hot moirallegiance three-ways, Human-animal hybrids (DUBYA WAS RIGHT!!), IT BEGINS, Multi, Multiple Equius shower scenes, Shirtless John, That's cool right?, Yeah. That's your contrast.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-11 14:46:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Outside_Context_Problem/pseuds/Outside_Context_Problem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A truss provides the most flexibility and STRENGTH of any basic structural design.</p><p>It is therefore 100% rational that a triad provide the most personal STRENGTH and flexibility.</p><p>Even one under a great deal of stress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. <

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're the focus. The instinct.
> 
> He gets distracted with projects and numbers. 
> 
>  _He_ looks at the big goal too much and likes to talk a lot.
> 
> You're the one that keeps them both moving.

## Point A (120°)

 _Sovereign Slayer_ operational time **T+1351 hours**

They aren't listening. Again.

_you should bite them!!!_

Nooo, that probably won't help.

_smack their heads?_

Too tall!

_guess you have to talk them out of it_

Nooo!!! That's the hardest, boringest way. It just sucks that it's the most effective way too.

"Hey! Idiot savants!" You like that one. Rose explained it to you. She's full of great terms for your relationship charts. She keeps saying you should get a psychosexuality doctorate. You dunno about that. Human schoolfeeding is weird. It's all crowded or virtual, and they both make your ~~fur~~ skin crawl.

"Nepeta, I have repeatedly stated that f- fudging ill-applied psychological terminology is inappropriate-"

"Nah, come on, bud. She called us." John shrugs, slaps Equius on his shoulder, and grins at you. He always shows as many teeth as he can, because he knows you like to be challenged.

You give him an answering face of fangs. "You guys are missing the lion while you're looking for squeakbeasts."

"What, precisely, is the datum we are missing in our trend analysis, Lieutenant Commander?" Equius is _sooo_ starchy when he's in uniform! Especially since your last round of promotions.

"The Imperial Condescension, duh!!!"

Hah! You _got_ him! Equius adjusts his glasses, which is the moirallegiance-triumvirate-fight sign for reeling from a blow.

"That… is fundamentally correct. Oh dear." He immediately respawns a dozen graphic windows he'd closed and starts digging for trends.

John grabs his hand, holds it tightly until Equius stops moving. He is sooo useful! You really _did_ need a super-strong, pretty smart, optimistic human to stabilize you guys. "Skip the trends, let's go to applied behavioral sciences."

Yay! Your turn to shine. Um. Wait. You don't exactly know anything about the Condesce.

John, of course (<>) has anticipated this! "Compare. Extrapolate. Guess."

Compare. Um. Lioness. Definitely lioness. Oh! And Fefurry! Only evil!

Extrapolate - _huntress, top level/new pack predator rival/attacked/injured/ambush element lost_

Guess. "Gone to den. Lurking."

"Press the attack?" John asks and does.

"Nuh-uh! She's an _old_ hunter, her lair has lotsa traps that she knows and we don't."

"What do we do?"

"Take her territory. Starve her. Ours now."

"Difficult. Psychic training has improved, weakening our infiltration capabilities, but at least 35 dreadships and 70 destroyers of the "loyalists" are Dersetech-equipped and capable of destroying any planet we take." 

"They don't have to remain loyalist. We have Operation Dioscuri, Operation Petrograd, or-" John breaks stride to smirk for a second, "the highly mysterious Operation Vriska."

Equius raises an eyebrow slowly and you stifle a snicker.

"I would've made her change it if it mattered," John shrugs. "Point being, there's never been a better time to push from civil war to full revolution. Their psychics are getting good; our counter-psychic techniques are getting better, and our agents are Karkat-trained. Meaning they neither need nor want any orders from the top. Of course, their psychics are usually bluebloods with the same attitudes, but the bourgeois fares worse with that kinda approach than the proles."

"It would be… risky."

_> :// equius how can you be so cautious even when youre trying to caution john???_

"He means _bloody_."

"Yeah. I." John sighs. "I know. But will it be worse than letting the war go on?"

"That is a definite no." Equius spins his display, a bunch of meaningless numbers and graphs until. He adds illustrations. "The rate is increasing," he says as a voice-over to the silent animations of planets destroyed by Dersetech weapons. Even the you who'd lived on Losat for half a sweep would have been horrified. You aren't exactly numb to it, even now, but you've seen it before. You were at some of these recordings.

You bite your lip to stifle a noise. John catches your gaze out of the corner of his eye and nods slowly. It's a little better.

"Habitability scouting has vastly increased since the latest round of Rim-Drive revisions - Dr. Lalonde's improvements and my own adjustments - but if we continue to fight at this rate, the thousands of survivors from both our species will have to look for planets in neighboring galaxies within 1.2 sweeps."

"So yeah. I think it's worth the blood to end it before that. And I'm not planning to watch the killing from orbit. I was going to deploy the God Squad at the heaviest Imperial concentrations."

"Mrr." You have to admit you like John's joking name for your new extended family. He sprung it on Eridan in an argument for maximum Human Irony Points, and he'd worn down his fishy kismesis enough to make him surrender and take it. "When?"

"Soon. There's a lot I'd like to see at least in testing phases before we jump to the endgame. The Affinity Program, Project Hybrid, Operation Beringia, The Black Box… important to have your post-apocalypse plans ready before you start your apocalypse, you know?" He says it with a smile, at least. "Plenty for us to do in the meantime. Which reminds me, I think it's Friday Fight Night, isn't it?"

Your hands curl and uncurl without thinking, and you'd cut your palms if they weren't so calloused already.

"Oh _hell_ yes."

"Nepeta, language. It is Friday Fight Night. Save it for, to borrow a phrase Makara will not even notice is missing, the motherfucking ring." Equius pounds a fist into a palm, making a slam you feel in your bones.

_XDD fun time!!!_

 

Bay City Arcology local time **0113 hours** , Coalition Calendar **November 6th, 2414**

"I fucking knew something was up when she picked the club."

You watch John go backwards over the safety railing, and don't even drop your drink. Which is good.

_X33 its green!!! and fizzy!!!_

John spreads his arms and arcs back, managing the full flip just barely before he hits the first floor of the club. And then he cancels his falling force with a blast of wind that sends everyone flying away.

Everyone except Vriskers and the big bruiser of a human with (you were sure humans didn't have signs! Maybe some of them?) a big A in a circle on his shoulder.

you wore your fucking uniform to a bar where antimil anarcho-syndicalist gangs hang out. jesus christ, vris, can i get ten seconds without stopping trouble?  
Duh. Let me get into it!!!!!!!! It's not like I can't 8eat ass and t8ke names!

John sweeps the guy's legs from behind, sending him forward to meet the ground. You can't resist.

"Woooo! Go John!"

=--= Nepeta, off-duty standards of conduct require more decorum than this.  
> not exactly helping my keep-this-quiet goal either, nep.  
:33 < who cares if youre s33n??? everyone loves us lets party!  
X33 < john john you gotta introduce me to the guys in the corner!!!  
> wha- oh.  
> okay, i'll talk to the transgenics. you'll have better luck with jade though, she used to be one.  
be right back, i gotta pay attention.

The gang member, who is even larger than John across the shoulders (> not fair! i just have a good workout schedule and a burly pre-selected phenotype, this fucker drinks testosterone), throws John backwards with a solid kick to the chest.

If he was hoping to knock John off his feet, he failed. Fleet Captain John Egbert (in "civvies" ( _:// nonuniform clothes??? weird human idea! kanaya loves it though_ ), which is actually pretty much the same as his uniform, only with a brown jacket, no overshirt, and no signs) throws both arms backward and slams onto the ground with his boots.

John surrounds himself with a simmering cyclone, light now, but still swift and sharp.

"So. You let the wrong impetuous Coalition Commander goad you into a fight. She could end it. Believe that. But that'd be shitty publicity, and I hate answering cops for six hours _and_ invoking the Earthfleet Act to skip their jurisdiction."

John drops his windshroud and smiles. Honest John smile. "Or we can discuss the suspension of civil liberties and the removal of military power of government in a post-war era like civilized people."

 

Vriskers seems really, honestly sincere while she holds an ice pack to John's black eye and rapid-patches his socket bone fracture. The Universal Medical team has already taken the anarcho-syndicalist guy off to the hospital. Vriskers even told them the right antidote for what she injected him with, so maybe she is getting nicer! And Karkitty is the one explaining things to the cops in his politest shoutyvoice. Diplomatic something Coalition something Military Act something.

You're not entirely sure, you're not really paying attention. You're busy with Jade, Nightshadow, Greystreak, and Kevin. Kevin is probably the most modded, but he said "Just because I have a gorilla splice doesn't mean I need to rebel against my parents and society," which got him pouty looks from Nightshadow and Greystreak, but a snicker from Jade, so you figure he's alright.

"Yeah, we're probably three or four percent of the Earthborn. Depending on how you want to class people, somewhere between point-five percent or fifteen percent of the colonies." Kevin rolls his eyes at the other two animal transgenics. "It's a big community argument. I'm inclusionist, I say anyone who takes a mod that includes genes from another animal is an animist, even if they have some fabbed genes like the Belter Crabs or Sumeru Flyers."

"They're posers who modded for _work_. None of them even care about second souls or being a totem. They're not real animists, _Kevin_ ," Nightshadow almost yowls. You really really want to like the kitty but he's kind of a bulge-licker.

Kevin cracks knuckles on a hand as large as his head and smiles. Now _he_ has canines worth calling "fangs" (no offense to John but his can't compete. His front teeth make them look small anyway). "If you wanted homogenous opinions, you shoulda stuck to a v-club, bro. This is Oakland Quad, you gotta expect somebody's gonna disagree enough to say it. You're lucky I'm only using words. Case in point." He nods at your friends. "Do you know who that is? That is motherfucking _Captain John Egbert_. He has a goddamn vid serial about his life and some antimil anarcho-syndic decides to get in a punch-up with him." He takes a big drink from his mug, which is about the volume of a human pitcher (Equius drinks from one the same size. He doesn't tell anyone he's drinking non-psychoactives, though. _:33 he just replaced the hemospectrum with johns respect its adorable_ ). "So yeah. You want to prance about and hiss some purist shit, go nuts. Just remember there's no cats that prey on 'rillas."

Nightshadow hisses something derogatory and leaves the table sinuously. Greystreak shrugs and shakes out her mane. "Sorry. He has a stick up his ass because he can't afford his 35% op."

Jade wrinkles her nose. It's almost the exact same way John reacted to the idea of sleeping in a recuperacoon when you guys were using a stolen destroyer to infiltrate the fleet fleeing Kutkh. Siblings are such a silly idea. And twins are even funnier. "Unimed covers up to 20%, and genemod only went up to 25-27% when I was animist."

"That's why it's an op. The _purists_ have started getting plastic and dermal operations for better percentages. 'course Unimed doesn't cover a cred, 'cuz it's superficial, non-cultural, and dangerous. And the percentage is made up by the chop-shop docs that do that back-alley shit, since it doesn't actually change your human:other genetic composition one drop. But it's a _spiritual_ percentage. It's crap. The trollies are a better faction, and they still have all the fervor of newbs." Kevin shakes his head. Greystreak whuffs but doesn't disagree.

"Trollies?" You've been a little too giddy to ask questions (Jade spotted it and asked them for you. Sibling in-laws or whatever she said you were are awesome!), but this is interesting!

"Yeah. Somebody came out with a splice for you guys' genes about a month ago, and it took off like crazy." Kevin smirks, and you think gorillas can look even more self-satisfied than humans. "Couple million by now, and half or less were animists before. Purists still say they aren't, but us inclusionists figure you guys are animals like the rest of us. Hell, so's our buddy Harley even now, spliced with that vicious animal predator _homo sapiens sapiens_."

Jade grins, buck teeth bigger than canines, but you've seen her spot and shoot, and you wouldn't try and hunt her from anything more than five meters. "I knew there was a reason I moved to Bay City when I left the island!"

Kevin fist-bunps her with his excessively massive knuckles. You can't contain yourself though.

"There are humans with troll genes??"

"Yup. They've safely run something like a fifteen, eighteen percent splice. Funny enough, I hear it was the hemovirus that set it all up. Something about the counter using human-native retrovirals."

Wait wait wait. The hemovirus counter was made entirely by Derse Laboratories. That means Rose! You almost break your neck spinning it around.

shes in one of the privacy shield booths with kanaya, terezi, and feferi! i bet its not rose that made it, though!  
:00 < who???  
id bet my choice ass its roxy that did the research, but id double the bet with tavroses hot booty that it was dirk that asked her to! :B  
X|| < dirk???  
yup!!!!! dirk is huuuuuuuuuuuuge on the rights of genemods in general and hes got so many splices that most of the purists sneer at him cuz hes like, 22 different species! >:B  
X33 < i gotta m33t some trollies!!!

"I gotta meet some!" you blurt out, thinking so hard your language center sends signals to two places.

Kevin chuckles, a deep boom that could be Equius if Equius was ever amused. "Careful what you wish for, El Tee Cee. Fans can get annoying pretty fast. That's why I don't pester the uplifted 'rillas." At some point Greystreak left, but you're okay with that. Kevin is waaay cooler!

"Oh gog, I'm not pestering you am I???" Oh maaan you are such a jerk! Equius is gonna be mad and John is gonna frown and sigh and give you another social interaction lesson.

Kevin just keeps up his quiet-boom laugh, though. "Nah. It's cool to meet a troll that wants to go transgenic. Plus it goes both ways. Big fan, El Tee Cee. Your vidshow's anything like truth then you are one savage cat." This time you get the fist bunp and it is _radical_. You think it causes tiny explosions.

"Are you Coalition too???"

"Hah! Nah, I'm a materials science engineer, specialty exohabs. I got handed a buncha survey data that's probably from you guys, though, considering how much shit was classified on it. Don't know where the planets I'm designing buildings for even _are_."

"There's a reason for that…" Jade says, tapping the side of her nose. Weird human thing when John does it too. 

Kevin nods. "Towel off, sister, it's good. I got one of the anti-'path subdermal patches with my R6 clearance and _Seale's_ has been loaded with privacy tech for centuries. Bet half the clubbers thought it was a raid when you tromped in trolls in uniform." He laughs again.

Jade rolls her eyes. "John always went here during college, but he still shouldn't have listened to Vriska. Dumbass."

You would object on your moirail's behalf, but this drink is a bit too interesting (it's only your… 16th?), and John said it's a "sibling thing". Rose said it's another atavism. John is really into atavisms you guess!

Kevin stretches an arm the size of you across the table and enfolds Jade's hand, shaking gently. "You got my address, sister, drop a line any time. You too, El Tee Cee. I snagged an R6 clearance, might as well take advantage to talk to some hardcore celebs, huh?" His fierce grin is cheerful, though. He knuckle-walks to the porthole near the bathrooms and drops through.

"Is he gonna take a look at the view?" you ask Jade. "That just goes to the under-deck, right?"

Jade laughs. "Yeah, but the under-deck's part of the old Bay Bridge, and a 28% 'rilla transgenic can brachiate the _fuck_ out of the undercarriage. Illegal as shit but who cares," she giggles.

"Hey, guys. How's the genetic chat?" John does not look his best, but you've seen him a lot worse. It was _really_ fucked up when you could actually _see_ his subdermal plating symbiote for the night it took to regrow when Vriskers blew up the _Inouye's_ left wing and stranded you guys and a couple crewmen on Hiawatha just in time to fight against the Imperial land invasion.

"John! There are people that get troll genes! Jade says probably Dirk started it."

He blinks a couple times, then shrugs and nods. As much as he can while leaning on Vriskers. "Yeah, he would. Sounds cool." He grins. His teeth are intact, which you can't take for granted after a fist to the face like that. "Betcha five to one we start seeing it in corpsmen in the next… I'll be generous, two months. Assuming they worked out all the kinks that your muscle density would cause with human biology. Which, knowing Dirk, they have. Or more likely Robo worked them out and snuck them in behind Dirk's back."

"Total self-kismesis."

"Ayup." John winks back at you. He still looks a little dazed as his gaze wanders around _Seale's_. "Things are going to get fun at home. Pity we're gonna miss them."

" _Things_ are gonna be plenty fun in space, dorkass," Vriskers says, tugging John straighter. "Let's get while the getting's good."

WE'RE NEVER LETTING SERKET PICK SHORE LEAVE ACTIVITIES EVER AGAIN.  
We had a perfectly enjoyable time, Karkat. Was there a problem?  
OH FOR-  
JUST READ THE POLICE REPORT.

_Samuel Clemens_ shipboard time **0922 hours** , Coalition Calendar **December 19th, 2414**

You know you're special, in theory. You get that John's important, that Karkitty's important, that you're important by proximity, that you're important all on your damn own because you are one _hotshot_ pilot.

Oh, and you know that you're the Prince of Heart. You don't actually know much about that. Except you know you can feel heartbeats. And you know from what John told you about feeling breaths that you could crush them with a thought.

You haven't. Not that you're scared of it, or unwilling to kill, or anything silly! You just haven't had a chance. Things have been slow.

You don't think it'd sunk in how important you are until you got called before a Stelcom committee.

"-absolutely correct that there's little precedent for this, Admiral." John gives a media smile, but it's brittle, mean. "There's little precedent for this entire damn war. My comrades - my _family_ \- are loyal to the Coalition-Free Alternia alliance."

"Your 'family'." Grand Leadespoiler Blindeye susurrates before the human admiral that was questioning John can say anything else. She wears a headband except when she wants to scare people even more, but the ancient sightless yellowblood is one of Free Alternia's most powerful psychics, an electrokinetic. She was Sollux's idol when you were all pupae - tech mage, seer of electrons, lord of the magnetosphere. Static even buzzes in her voice. "Your assessments are biased, Fleet Captain."

"Damn fucking straight they are," Karkat barks. "Because he _knows us_. Because every step we've made towards winning the _real_ war has been started, guided, or advised by Fleet Captain John Egbert, Senior Agent Dave Strider, and me. You want your gogdamn oversight? You have _us_."

" _Real_ war? How d-" one of the Admirals begins. Karkat doesn't let him.

"I _dare_ because I know exactly how many people are dying in this war, _uselessly_. Because I recruited and trained people who've been tortured, killed, dragged to the edge of death and back. Because I am the gogdamned Mobassador of Free Alternia and I am tired of seeing my people die while we fight the wrong war."

You're pretty sure John and Karkat didn't rehearse any of this, but your moirail steps in seamlessly. "Dersetech _was_ winning this war for us, Admirals. Now it's a steep slope to the end."

"The Veil is secure," Grand Leadespoiler Orisoner intones. He's teal, mid-rank enough to draw disaffected highbloods without causing worries about the return of the hemospectrum (at least, not with your Karkitty in charge. And you keeping him safe).

"No." One word from most people wouldn't stop any Stelcom officer. One word from Feferi stops a Grand Leadespoiler in his tracks. "You know what we can do. You've seen it. _She_ can see life. I clouded the Veil as much as I could, but her allies know more. She could be told at any moment."

Feferi slams her palms on the table, and the polymer cracks. "We can't hide. We can't win with weapons, unless winning is mutual annihilation. We need a plan."

She takes a slow breath. No one interrupts. "And the Mobassador has one."

"The real war is twofold," Karkat says without a momen of doubt. "We strike at morale. We stoke the fires of civil war like we never have. And _we_ kill the Condesce's source of power."

"They know this," your moirail says quietly.

Wait. Your _other_ moirail?

"Admirals. Grand Leadespoilers. Our worst case scenario is a 30% casualty rate among trolls in Imperial territories. _It will be worth it_. Our alternative projections place the death of both species within two years. _That_ is our enemy's goal. That is what we must not permit."

Equius stands slowly. He _unfolds_. "I apologize for speaking out of turn, and offer the resignation of my commission if is necessary. But I will not abandon the path that will save my people - _my people_ , human and troll alike - no matter what orders I am given."

You stand with him. John is there in the same moment. Karkat doesn't rise. He just leans back in his chair and watches.

"You have free reign, officers, agents." The patient, calm voice of Admiral Quinn fills the silence. She rests her pale hands on her desk. "Do what you must. Victory or defeat lie in your hands."

Oh, _good_. A BIG problem. You were worried it was going to be a small problem.

John and Equius can handle the big ones. You're going to take a nap.


	2. =

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are the foundation.
> 
> Her impetuous leaps push off and land on you.
> 
> His over-elaborate and fantastical dreams rest on your back.
> 
> You keep them safe when they would be vulnerable, you keep them strong when they would weaken, you keep them standing when they would fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Two Shower Scenes Of A Red Nature, And Considerable Verbosity.

## Point B (240°)

 _Sovereign Slayer_ shipboard time **1245 hours** , Coalition Calendar **January 1st, 2415**  
You do not often command, even this vessel. You are and will always remain a technician at heart. However - and this is a thought that verges embarrassingly close to mystical - you have come to appreciate the nature of a ship as a machine composed of both technical systems and personnel systems. In that regard you would judge yourself passable in the field of command.  Teleos Ring. Sumeru's orbital defense. Your involvement with Vantas in the Askeri Affair.

You are mildly annoyed that your skill is not why you are in command, so much as the amount of intoxicants everyone else imbibed in the celebration of the human Complete Solar Orbit Night, and the fact that you are the only one awake.

You truly miss serving on a ship crewed by strangers some times. Being unforgiven for lapses in duty. Being subject to military discipline.

You believe you need your absorbent sheet.

"Hey, big guy. What- oh fuck, whoops. We kinda left you holding the reigns, huh?" John yawns and stretches. He is not exactly in uniform. You suppose you should be grateful he is wearing boots. And pants. Even if they are the ones he passed out in on Serket, under Nepeta, and next to Vantas last night. You feel justified in retaining command, however. You believe commanding officers should wear shirts.

You will not tell John this, or he will insist on doing otherwise. He and Nepeta are very much alike in this regard, although John is worse in some forms. He will not give in to a firm stance as Nepeta eventually will, he is wily and able to deflect your argument if you are not careful, and he is your superior officer. Fortunately John is willing to entertain reason upon occasion. And he will side with you when Nepeta needs to be calmed.

You are still very careful never to tell them both to do something at the same time. You are confident the results would be disastrous.

John groans and flings himself back dramatically. His grav-harness chair obliges by spinning him until he is almost touching the deck with his head. He rights himself, but still has one palm covering his face, and the other rubbing his temple.

You switch control of the ship to the rudimentary autonomous systems (patterned after Captain Strider's self/robotic personality construct). Which you could have let control the ship for the past six hours. You have not, however.

You are excessively STRONG. You have also worked very hard with a number of devices and methods from another species, to refine that STRENGTH.

John doesn't even twitch when you take his arm and pull his hand away from his face, nor when you start gently massaging his temples for him. "Talk."

"Don't worry about it. Stupid humans being, well, stupid humans!" John leans into your hand. His hornless head is easy for him to rest on you, or nudge you with. You have grown used to it.

"John. What uniform am I wearing? What military do I belong to? What government am I a citizen of?"

He laughs and punches your upper arm. He uses his left, but the force is pulled. You are pleased. You adjusted the neural interface pathways for smoother control three weeks ago, two days after Dr. Lalonde "upgraded" the control software.

"Alright, you got me. There's… critics. The usual things you get in war." He rolls his eyes. "Okay, well, the usual things humans _got_ in wars until we got a generation that could pretend they wouldn't happen any more. Apologists. Xenophobes. Isolationists. Hypocritical faux-pacifists. Actual pacifists I wish were fake because then I wouldn't have to consider what they have to say. Aaaaaaaand of course, opposition media."

He groans. "Which, since I'm the rising star of Earthfleet, the guy slapping Karkat's shoulder, the man firing the newest Dersetech gun, wants to interview my SO."

"The problem?"

"Uh. You want to see what a hostile interview with Vriska will look like? They won't even have to edit it to make her, me, the Coalition, _and_ Free Alternia look bad."

"No. I meant what problem prevents you from blocking the interview or simply shutting this media down? I **have** read the Earthfleet Incorporation Articles. Your military took full advantage of the war panic to secure strong legal power."

This seems to cause John further pain, and you pause a moment before he taps your wrist gently. You massage his temples again. "I don't want to have to."

"You are afraid of creating a post-war militant state."

"Yeah. I maybe mentioned that once or twice? I dunno." He tilts his head, resting it against the flat of your abdomen. His eyes are shut tight, wrinkles creasing his sockets.

"John. What **do** you want for your people? You spend all your time worrying about things you must prevent."

"I- fuck, I dunno. I want things to go back to the way they were and totally can't be."

You do not bother to respond to that. You take a different tack. Changing your line of approach is a trick you have had to nurture from hopeless to master in your moirallegiance with him. "You want the return of demo-cracy," you say, pronouncing the word as strangely as it fits in your mind, rendering it to root concepts. "But you use every trick of family, friends, and lovers to manipulate. You accept the advantages granted you by nepotism. You are, despite the sea-dwellers arrogant assumptions, not a natural god, **but you very well may be a god nonetheless**."

He cranes his head back, almost horizontal, eyes open. "So. What's your point?"

You step back, and hold your right arm out, bent halfway at the elbow, stare at your palm. "I am of the **firm** opinion that you can create your ideal human-troll society, John."

You close your fist and listen to the cracking of your knuckles. "I am equally **certain** you will be unable to participate without breaking it."

He slams the back of his head against his chair. The cushioning absorbs most of the blow.

And as you have observed, he has a very hard head.

" _That's it_. That's the catch I've been feeling knawing at me, the penultimate chapter's twist. Moses in the gogdamn desert."

"This is not a matter of 'narrative'," you begin. Hesitate. "Or it is a matter of every narrative."

John sighs, a long and deep thing that eats the air around him and expels it as a bass tide. "Yeah. Because at this point, I'm pretty much a revolutionary, huh?"

"That would be an apt comparison. You are conspiring to remove your current government from power. Although you are also conspiring to remove yourself from power."

"Well, yeah! To be the _good_ kind of revolutionary, you have to. You said it yourself. Having the destroyer try to take over the rebuilding is an old story. And it never works." He brings both palms to his face simultaneously. "Aw, fuck!"

"What?"

"Eq, think about it. Staying out of the new world you've made is hard enough for 'mere mortals', what the _hell_ am I gonna do about the other fourteen superpowered people, at least half of whom are packing megalomaniacal habits of their own?"

"We leave."

He pries his hands off his face to look up at you, eyebrow raised. You award yourself a point in the continual struggle against his melodramatic tendencies. Then you internally mumble in embarrassment at the extent to which Strider has corrupted your thoughts. "The sead- **Ampora** persists in a belief that is both foolhardy and perverse, and thus typical of him. However, it has made be realize there is an important supernatural-encased philosophical framing device employed by the ancestors of the previous government of your birthplace."

"So you think a religious belief of the 'Founding Fathers' is relevant," John restates needlessly. You know he is reducing your perfectly objective terms to culturally-specific ones in order to tease you because he switches which eyebrow he has raised. It is not quite a waggling. "I'm gonna hazard a guess we're talking deism."

"The mastery of creating lies in building a creation that is capable of looking after itself."

"So where's your Von Neumann swarm?"

"Hardly a responsible creation, John." You give him the slight-muscled smile you prefer over more vulgar displays of emotion. "One might ask where your dictatorship is."

He shrugs and scratches at his bare chest, yawns. He is silent for a while. Eventually he leans forward and puts his chin on his crossed knuckles. "Well. It hasn't come up yet."

"Obviously not."

"And there's no guarantee it will."

You step to his side, clamp his shoulder in your grip. Left shoulder, but even still he winces. "John. Nepeta and Serket have left precise requests with me in case of your fatalism recurring."

"I'm not saying it's guaranteed! But given the amount of reality-warping, time-erasing and -fracturing that us _and_ the bad guys are throwing around-" He leaves that statement to hang for a while. "Well, I wouldn't count on being death's constantly rejected suitors keeping our asses alive forever."

You release his shoulder, offer a hand, pull John to his feet, and embrace him. He's always so warm. Even Vantas doesn't radiate heat like John. After he returns your hold you release him, half-step back. "Plan for victory, John."

He hesitates, then quirks a smile. "I'm thinking you already have."

He never does get around to getting dressed. You don't especially mind.

You believe he should be dressed to captain, but not to be in cahoots.

 

Derse Laboratories local time **1138 hours** , Coalition Calendar **February 14th, 2415**

You take off your goggles last. You argued against a need to wear them in the first place given your physiology and psychology, but you are strict in your adherence to policy **when** it is decided by the proper authorities.

In this case the proper authorities may consist of the enigmatic Dr. Egbert, the chemically altered Dr. Lalonde, the Heiress (who causes an involuntary reaction when she speaks. You do not afford her arguments excess value, but you. Er. Need your absorbent sheet upon occasion), the nearly silent Captain Strider, the never silent Amaranthine Robot, the newly en-doctorated Dr. Maryam, and the vexing, foolhardy, crude, arrogant, impossible, irresistible Dr. Lalonde (Jr.). Regardless, they (and you) are the experts, and even Amaranthine Robot accepted a perception filter after the majority insisted on mandatory protection.

You meet the arched eyebrow of Dr. Lalonde (Jr.) with a blunt stare. Neither of you is willing to look away, which does make stripping out of the decontamination suits slightly more difficult. And stripping out of the undersuits.

"Pointless," you say at last, turning to the showers, admitting her dominance by reacting first. ( _=--= Get the water running, then you may sweat._ )

"Verification is pointless now?" Dr. Lalonde (Jr.) takes the shower stall next to yours. She knows the dividers are sized for human heights and that they do little to block your sight. You stare at the faucet because of this.

"Verification in the form of cryptic riddles from beings with traumatically different thought processes is not a part of the scientific method," you say, starting to lather up, bending down to get your legs first

"What we're doing isn't subject to double-blind testing." From the pale blur at the edge of your vision, Dr. Lalonde is standing on the tips of her toes and leaning on the shower divider. Highly inappropriate behavior.

Fortunately it is hard to sweat in a hot shower. "It **should be**. These are lives - the lives of gru- **children**. The lives of innocents."

"What a particularly un-Alternian concern, Commander. You truly are perverse, aren't you?"

You straighten like a piston, your face rising from steam-shrouded depths to meet hers from only a few centimeters away. "I have **always** held strong beliefs, Doctor. Now it is up to me to make my **just** actions outweigh the ones I took in the name of an **unjust** and cruel system."

She tilts just the slightest bit forward, and her ridiculously soft human lips brush yours. You don't feel a thing, but blue trickles down her teeth and your lips when she pulls back. "And that's why you are a suitably opposed genetic donor rather than simply a prick, Commander Zahhak."

"Your courage, dedication, and intellect are the positive traits I would have our hybrid inherit from you, Dr. Lalonde. Your sheer recklessness and unwavering self-assurance are the traits that make you an opposed genetic donor rather than a waste of doctorates."

She merely lifts the eyebrow another quarter-centimeter. You have always had to keep in mind that you must be careful with your liaisons or someone will break.

It is simply that in this case, you must be careful lest Dr. Lalonde break **you**.

"Your phrasing undermines your doubts, Commander. You seem quite willing to continue the project."

"I am no more willing to create a Zahhak/Lalonde hybrid than I was before you decided to consult the Horrorterrors. I am also no less willing."

"You're wasting hot water," she says, turning back to push her own sud-covered form under the showerhead.

"Heaven forfend," you return, a sotto voce rumble over the sounds of spray. You have, in point of fact, adopted numerous human beliefs, attitudes, and cultural referents, primarily those specific to the Confederation of the Americas. Partially this is a result of almost a sweep spent in close proximity to John, who cannot help being a cultural vector. Partially it is an intentional decision based on your changing values: you agree with numerous human cultural values, although not all. They are more **just**. Justice is honor. Honor is a **true** belief.

Partially this is a result of you researching Dr. Rose Lalonde as thoroughly as you would research any deadly substance you intended to expose yourself to.

And then picking and choosing the cultural elements she most enjoys in order to subtly needle her.

It is pleasant to discover that humans are by no means bereft of social hierarchy. They simply do not announce theirs, and have many competing mechanisms. The evaluation method employed by the Drs. Lalonde is based upon a subtle mixture of praise, denigration hidden within praise, wit, and technical prowess. You have proven quite capable of navigating these previously unknown waters.

Dr. Lalonde towels off with efficiency, both in terms of speed and grace. You settle for a utilitarian approach, but leave your chest bare while you towel, and do not bother with modesty screens when you sweep your long hair up to press the water out. "Do you believe Project Hybrid to be viable on the current timetable?"

"The answers you refuse to accept give ample evidence it is pos-"

"Rose."

Just like that, you shut her down. Of course, you have never said that before. The energy in a system is only as good as its reserves.

"Do **you** believe that?"

She pauses, towel unwrapped, and grabs your shoulders, pulling herself up until your bodies press and your lips meet again. "I value what we have, Equius. I would not risk our hypothetical child to poor science. All our trials are significantly above the viability minimum."

"I will, of course, be checking these results."

"Of course," her seriousness melts back under her amused mask. "I hardly expect anything else."

The rest of Project Hybrid's meeting proceeds as planned. Viability studies are progressing sufficiently, environmental adaptation results are more than positive, reproduction engineering has created a valid biological compromise.

It's the cultural committee that's having the most problems.

"It's going to be a bit hard to say 'we've created a new species' and not have any problems," Captain Strider says.

"No fucking kidding?" his robotic duplicate/sibling asks.

"Captain." You pause for a moment. Well, in the absence of a title, his given name is descriptive enough. "Amaranthine."

That actually gets their attention. "We have at our disposal the talents of Karkat Vantas and John Egbert."

"We also have a War of the Gods to be planning, Commander," Dr. Lalonde (Jr.) comments quietly.

"War is pointless without planning for victory. Project Hybrid is one of the points of victory." You stand, slowly, sliding your palms across the table. You do not crack it, but you lean over. "Victory for me is never having our species go to war again. Project Hybrid is the method. **If** it is implemented correctly. The Captain and the Mobassador are the ones who can provide that implementation. Our war planning can spare them long enough."

Dr. Lalonde tilts her head slightly, flickers her eyes to Dr. Maryam, who nods just as slightly. "Agreed, Commander. Let's begin drawing up our first-generation donor list, shall we?"

It pays to have a strong kismesissitude. It makes it so much easier to dominate the discussion when you agree.

 

 _Vyacheslav Molotov_ , Special Operations Joint Alliance Vessel, shipboard time **1447 hours** , Coalition Calendar **March 9th, 2415**  
You crawl out of the maintenance shaft coated in hydraulic fluid, airborne particulates, and sweat.

This does not keep you from being immediately pounced.

It does enable you to escape fairly easily.

X00 < its in my fur!!!  
> gotta count that as self-inflicted, nep.  
=--= I assume by your presence that the crew training is 100% complete?  
> as of 1220, buddy. what took you?  
=--= …  
=--= Skip drive tolerances were 6% below a%eptable standards.  
XPP < kn333w it!!! john youre paying!  
> fair's fair. c'mon, bro. time to do this. we're making the drinks happen.  
=--= I have not briefed the crew on the modifications yet.  
> that's why i guessed what you were doing and put together a sim thirty minutes ago.  
=--= Oh.  
=--= Remarkably 100cid of you.  
> sometimes even i have to be an adult.  
> but not now! let's get shitfaced!

 

Showering comes first. John indulges, while Nepeta takes a rapid sonic shower then sits at the edge of the lockers, scowling at the water. You scrub to a precise regimen as usual.

"That makes six. Minimum projections for Operation Dioscuri required four equipped ships, for Petrograd three. Think we can pull both off with these?"

"It remains a distinct possibility."

"Have I ever mentioned I love the definite answers I get from you, Eq? It's like dating Rose all over again."

"Hardly."

John turns and winks at Nepeta, who snickers. "What's this? Neither hesitation nor embarrassment to be had at the mere mention of our wonderful Dr. Lalonde… maybe this has something to do with the fifty first-generation embryos being grown for Project Hybrid? Nep, check it out, wouldja?"

"Hrmmmm," she purrs, manipulating her interface with claws. "I see Strider/Nitram/Harley, Egbert/Serket, Lalonde/Maryam, and - Lalonde/Zahhak? What's that doing there?" she asks in feigned innocence.

"I believe we have already had The Talk about the purposes of concupiscent relations, Nepeta."

She sticks out her tongue. John frowns, then smiles. "You pick up our culture way too fast, buddy."

"I have. I have also considered that my regrettable staunch embrace of the hemospectrum may have been overcompensation for an alienation from its design."

John whistles. "He's actually been _listening_ to Rose, Nep. You really have to be crazy for her to do that."

"Don't always," Nepeta scowls.

"What'd she have to say about this?" John asks, coming out of his stall and poking Nepeta's spine just above her growing tail stub.

"Transgenics are healthy and I'm not deluded about what I am, John!" she yowls.

"I will pick you both up by the scruff of the neck if it is required to settle you."

"Eq, I'm a hundred and fifty kilos."

You crack your knuckles.

John raises his hands. "Alright, alright, I surrender!"

Nepeta takes the opening and pokes him in the gut. Claw first. He looks down at the slice across his dermis, exposing the subcutaneous armor.

You do end up having to pick them both up to separate them, and you prove capable of it. Even if you are still a bit soapy.

 

This is why you don't leave the ship during shore leave. You are not **inherently** opposed to socialization.

You **are** disturbed by the amount of attention you receive. Even if it were negative attention it would not trouble you. You had some fights in your first few months in Earthfleet, when tempers were hot and Free Alternia was just Vantas's mad dream.

 **This** disturbs you.

"So you were on the front lines at Askeri, sir?" You strive not to focus too intently on the speaking ensign. Carlotti, you think. Introductions were brief and the alcohol is fu- futzing with your neural interface.

"At Askeri, Ensign," you say, your voice dropping a little into the natural buzz-rumble harmonics of Alternian pronunciation, "there was no **front** line. That was the first time the Empire managed to insert a psychic behind our lines, and we were fighting in chaos within an hour of the battle's start. Of course, so were they."

"They say you killed a hundred trolls," Psiop Ferill comments. Neutrally. You think.

"A lot of trolls killed a lot of trolls. I don't care who they swore allegiance to. We all lost on that night." You almost thump your hand on the table. John's left arm creaks with the strain of holding you back for a moment, before you stop. "Culling only ever made us **weaker**. Brutality is a crutch for the cowardly. We cannot sustain the dying empire…"

Nepeta is under your shoulder (when did she get there?) and John is under your other. You catch glimpses of a couple corridors, airlocks, and then The Hammock.

"Glad I got myself a giant-ass one," John mutters, hands helping you fumble into it. He hands over your sopor mask while Nepeta pulls hers on. John climbs into the hammock on your other side, both of them leaning on you.

You are the anchor. You are the rock.

You are the balance, and you sleep the sleep of the **just**.


	3. >

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're the added element, the catalyst.
> 
> She gives drive and inspiration to your goals.
> 
> He builds the tools you'll need to craft them.
> 
> You set the course and they jump on board and correct your steering.
> 
> You don't know how you lived without them.

## Point C (360°)

Seattle Arcology local time **2034 hours** , Coalition Calendar **April 13, 2415**

"I think I'll try living planetside for a couple years when this is over."

Rose raises an eyebrow over her '34 cabernet, Vriska gives a thumbs-up without pulling the vodka bottle from her lips. Dave holds up a finger, takes a sip of his malt liquor, and spit-takes.

You throw the wind in a tight spiral to snare every droplet into a ball, then toss it in the reclamation bin, but you still glare at Dave like he'd hit you. "Work on the comedic timing, pal."

"Seriously. John practically-born-in-space Egbert going Earthside?"

Your eyes don't even flicker towards the balcony where Equius is trying to get Nepeta off the arcology's superstructure. Rose would notice, and start wondering. But you know whatever planet you end up on - whatever planet you _all_ end up on - it's not going to be Earth. Or Alternia.

"I like the room."

"No shit you do, you have _an entire level_ to yourself."

"I helped build it!" You're being defensive, you know you're being defensive, but Dave knows your weak spots. Even imaginary Head Dave does.

"I'm just saying, how long does the hero bonus last before you get asked - and instantly agree, because you're you - to give back? Rhetorical question," he adds to Aradia.

"Wasn't going to. Tired of obnoxious asshole blabbing every time I dip in the stream." Both Aradia and Dave have started clipping their sentences when they talk to each other, even when you're around. At least Vriska and Rose can translate based on probability!

Probability of Dave being a jag-off is always 1.0.

"Doesn't matter. There's a lot of real estate out there. And I liked building."

"Me too."

Dave doesn't have anything else to add.

"So, you guys got metal drones 'n' shit, but they _don't_ do all your building?" Eridan has no taste in alcohol. He drinks whatever is offered him, available to him, or just passing by him while unguarded. Unsurprisigly he drinks like a fish.

"Why would they get all the fun?" You jump up. Your churning mix of rum and various distilled fruits sloshes around in your stomach but you can handle that. "Dan, Karks, and… let's go with Nep, you weren't around for the last one. C'mon, I'm gonna show you guys how we do construction on Earth."

"This cannot help but end well," Rose observes.

"Oh, get back to your SOs," you mutter, rolling your eyes. You just know she's gonna have Kanaya _and_ Equius's pants off before you're all the way out the window.

 

"C'mon, man, for a species that builds as kids you're not a very adventurous specimen."

"I said we had drones for that kinda thin'," Eridan grumbles. He's still clutching tight to the wall. Fuckin' adorable, really. Baby's first wall-crawling. "An' it's not like I can fly."

"I couldn't when I came up here at sixteen. Earth years, Dan." You use everyone else's first syllable (mostly). You use his second because it's so delightfully _mundane_. "You've got a grav harness."

"Sure, 'cuz trustin' alien tech is so common to me."

You drift around Eridan, unattached. "You're speaking English. Somehow I think you're a little more adaptive than you let on, 'hierarch'."

"Sure, rub it in," he grumbles.

You skip the phase where you ask if he trusts you and just grab him under the arms. Yeah, he's skinny. Yeah, he's also violet-blood and freakishly strong. Not actually that _dense_ , though, compared to any of them but Peixes, since density and aquatic do not match. Eridan squirms for a moment when you pry him off his perch, but shifts his arms to you.

He opens his mouth to complain.

The flying troll-cat roaring down past you with a loud "WHEEE!" takes the wind from his sails.

> remember the arcology widens pretty fast below level 236, nep.  
X33 < *the huntress has TIGER REFLEXES!* raaar!!!  
> <> *the captain hopes the huntress is careful. the captain doesn't want the engineer to make him into a throw rug.*  
XPP < nice joke john but we both know youd skin yourself before equius even got mad!!! you big softy <>  
> yeah, okay. you're right. i'm not gonna ask you to stay safe any more 'cuz i know you already will.  
:33 < *the huntress almost falls off the branch she is stalking. the monkey can learn???*  
> wiseass. wonder where you picked that up.

"So did th' crazy catgirl get splattered or what?"

"Unlike some wrigglers she's a master out here," you retort, thrusting up and kicking off the superstructure a few times. "Didja drop your kit, yer princelyness?"

"Heir. Yer the prince, Johnny." Ooh. Eridan actually engaged human culture enough to understand your personal demeaning nickname is longer than your original name! You're so proud.

"Guess so. Wanna shove me off and get on with the regicide and usurpation then?" You settle onto an incomplete deck, number 336.

Eridan stumbles to his feet, then kisses you. He almost never draws blood. It's a taunt, of course - "weak pink humans can't handle it" and all - but you grew up with _Dave_ and _Rose_. You're better at Sex Chicken than anyone you know. And you - ugly warmonkey side or not - kind of _like_ having someone you know you can always _start_ a fair fight with. "Nah, just hafta fight Tavros for it and he's one mean motherfucker."

You look around until an upside-down grey head capped with nubby widdle horns drops into view and a claw taps you lightly on the forehead. "Egbert, you better not have been encouraging my matesprit in her suicidal impulses."

You flick Karkat's upside-down forehead in response. "Thanks, fuckstick, I had no idea what a moirallegiance was for! Speaking as the guy who first met her on the planet of the murder monsters, she's gonna be fucking fine."

"Killing is not the same thing as flying," Karkat grumbles, but he spins himself upright and at least makes a show of examining his gauntlets. "You're sure the eight million people here don't mind having a couple drunk trolls build another floor."

"I filed the building permits and got an approval ten minutes ago, Karkat. We've had worse architects." You smirk and clap your best troll bud on the shoulder. "And you forget I've got complete and total intel clearance. I've seen the buildings you designed on and in the Veil. Fuckin' beautiful, man! After you get done being the revolutionary/first troll president, you need to look into architecture."

"Kiss-ass," Karkat snorts, slugging your shoulder. You laugh.

"What th' fuck am I supposed ta do with these, Johnny?" Eridan asks when he finally walks back, wiggling his gauntlets.

"Design interface," you say, holding up the left gauntlet and making a few quick finger movements. You trace a geometric space, select from database, and place a gargoyle statue in the virtual overlay. You use your fingers to make a few adjustments to its design until it has zigzag horns and a scarf. "Filler," you waggle your right gauntlet, then aim it at your design and watch it fill in. "Used to be you had to lug around a pack of material and refill every ten minutes but the sylladex fixes that. Build grist is some useful shit."

"Yeah, I'm sure there's no downsides to building your respiteblocks with the nasal passage drippings of the eldritch beyond-gods," Karkat mumbles.

"Ehh, relax. The Noble Circle of Horrorterrors are chill dudes."

"John, last time I let you insane fuckers drag me into that anti-dimension they asked me if I would prefer to die by impalement or _implosion_."

"They're chill, I didn't say they weren't weird," you laugh. "And you're fucking _lucky_. I got, among tactics from a battle six months ago and desperate pleas for me to avoid someone called Jack Noir, tips on troll/human sexual positions."

"Fuck. You win." Karkat stops and turns back. "The fuck could they possibly tell you in that field that you don't already know?"

" _Don't ask_."

Karkat considers this, then nods vigorously. "So, uh, what am I supposed to building here?"

"Whatever. Someone will find a use for it," you say, starting the design work on an atrium with prismatic glass and distinct Alternian elements on the walls.

He doesn't actually move. "You guys seriously live this way?"

"You've been to Earth before, Karkat. Just a _couple_ times. What's with the culture shock?"

"Fuck. Sorry. I keep forgetting you haven't seen the Veil."

"Bad, I take it."

"No, just… busy. And, well, _strained_ lately. Nobody's starving, but it's all grime and tension compared to this - I don't know, pastoral shit?"

"Hah." You start spilling grist into the glass wall design, feeding it the parameters as you go. "You're looking at the end result of ninety years of peace without seeing everything between. We spent a lot of time, energy, and brainpower developing the sustainable, safe power systems, spent a while devoting all of that to infrastructure for the population boom, then finally, about a decade before I was born, we channeled energy and research into ecological restoration. Which wasn't actually that costly, so we got to build up the energy/matter reserves that let us go from ISS to Earthfleet in two months. We've been hitting that pretty heavily though. Especially with Dersetech." You're sure he expects your mood to darken, but you don't let it.

Why would you? You have a _plan_.

"All of this-" You wave your hand at the construction overlay, the grist you're funneling into your design, the spiral columns Eridan is designing, autocorrecting, and redesigning, the park Nepeta is scrawling pre-drafts for. "-is optimistic planning. It'll be fine and it'll be used if the war ends within a year."

"If it lasts that long, you get into austerity measures?"

"No, if it lasts that long, the Condesce has probably located Sol and broken through Defcom First Fleet." You smile a little bleakly.

"How the fuck do they not know already?" He wonders. "The Veil was at least secret but you monkeys have almost a dozen colonies in this system bouncing signals over every gogdamn bandwidth. And I believe in the insane think pan-exploding military-industrial capability of the human species, probably you could've fought the Empire off if they'd found you before escalation, but with Dersetech guns against a planet - Jesus Suffering Christ, you've been lucky."

"We've been skilled! You should know that, Senior Agent. EWS scrub Sol's location and a dozen random stars at top priority on any disabled ship, we have false beacons producing the kind of fuzz our EM signals would degrade into seeded on dozens of uninhabited planets, the Ring Drive basically rendered normal spatial coordinates useless anyway, and anyone going on an infiltration run gets a limited brain wipe." You smirk and stroke your chin. " _Totally_ called that one." Technically, Earthfleet has only had mind-wiping tech for a year, since you bribed Vriska to work with Rose for some deep-level brain imaging to make a device for HCI. You still called it.

"Wait, you guys have brain wipes? Why the fuck didn't I know about this?"

"We brain-wiped you."

"Egbert!"

You fend off his blows feebly, laughing. "It's actually extraordinarily expensive, only works on certain memories, and is, so far, limited to human neurons. I'm not surprised nobody bothered to mention it to you, there was never any chance of it being used on you."

"Fuck. Okay. And why the fuck hasn't Scratch told Evil Peixes where you live?" Ever since learning his villainous oppressor does in fact share the sign and ancestral name of his rebellious royal friend, Karkat hasn't given the Condesce the dignity of her title once.

"Well. Could be a couple reasons. Maybe he knows and doesn't share because our continued war is necessary. Or maybe he doesn't know."

"Isn't that nookstain omniscient?"

You smile a little. It's the innocent, cheerful smile, the one everyone says makes you look like your dad. "Omniscience counters omniscience, I guess."

"What the ever-Suffering _fuck_ does that mean?"

"Nothing important. Chalk it up to 'John likes being melodramatic', I guess."

Karkat sure as fuck isn't going to leave it alone, but whatever. You'll go public (i.e. tell fifteen other people. Well, twenty two if your older generation doesn't know) with that before you tell everyone about Project Cahoots, anyway.

"Just go build something, nubbyhorns."

Karkat's glare is a thousand volcanos, but he settles for slugging you and walking off. He'll find a way to get you back. He's almost as good(/bad) as Dave.

You get back to building. And dreaming.

 

Vriska is particularly possessive tonight. You're sure Rose would have something to say about that. You don't. You have, well, about twenty people you'd fight the universe for (maybe not for each one of them individually, you're not that close to _everyone_ , but as a group, definitely.), but you're capable of giving each and every one your full attention when you're with them.

You'd like to think so, anyway. You sure as fuck can't keep your eyes off Vriska Serket, even if she's asleep. Lying across you with a grip that belongs in a wrestling ring and the hint that she'll become a worse enraged demon than any cat if she's woken up, but still asleep. You're comfortable anyway. If you ever had trouble having your incredibly dense alien boyfriend/girlfriend/quadrantmate lying on you (a category now including four people), you worked it out a long time ago (mostly via workouts. And symbiotes).

Eridan, in the chair next to you, rests his head on your shoulder. Karkat is avidly shouting at someone over the ansible three rooms away (and still faintly audible), which is probably why Nepeta is curled up around your legs.

You don't know how you would live in your giant war-hero apartment without your family.

"It's not all about arrogance an' shit, reely," Eridan mumbles, half-awake. "I b'lieve in responsibility an' _noblesse oblige_ , yanno. Or whateva the phrase is fer gods. I just… I just _know_ we're special, dammit…"

You idly scrape his cheek with your left hand's not-quite-keratin nails, and he breathes in a shuddering sigh, arcing his neck and jabbing your shoulder a little more with his horn. "Acts make you special, Dan. Powers just make you unique. And everyone's unique."

"Mrr." You're not sure if that was support, disagreement, or annoyance, but you scratch Nepeta's horns anyway.

"So - so call it my _excuse_ , Johnny. Maybe we ain't all as perfect as you that we can jus' be a hero over an' over 'cuz it's the right thing ta do."

"Yeah. I hear." You pause a minute, then pinch his gill. "Still hate you."

"Fucking Sufferer! Hate you too!" he seethes, barely able to speak. You pat the gills gently and lie back.

Soooooooo. You going to tell me?  
tell you wh- yeah, okay.  
equius and i are in cahoots.  
Without me???????? 8ad 8oyfriend!  
just giving you a chance to find out what was going on for yourself.  
you want in i assume.  
How a8out that, it's llike you know me!!!!!!!!

 

 _Rosa Luxemburg_ , HCI/Alternian Resistance blockade runner, shipboard time **0221 hours** , Coalition Calendar **March 1st, 2415**

You don't feel comfortable with this part, which is weird.

Because as good as you are at being a public idol, a hero, a champion - you're a better revolutionary, traitor, and liar.

That _is_ what you're doing. You know that. You have your very legitimate moral objections to the military power you serve, but that doesn't change the fact that you're violating oaths you swore to it.

The discussion is getting heated. You cool it down.

After the blast of wind has shut open mouths or sucked the breath from them, you speak in a whisper carried to every ear. "There are really only two elements to this that matter. The actual disarmament, the return to civilian power, this is set up. My first concern, and _command_ , is simple: _no jumping the gun_. The Empire is on its last legs and lurking in the shadows, but it's still very deadly. If _anyone_ decides to start the show early, maybe because they want to make changes to the power structure, I'll unleash the storm and set the Huntress on you. And she'll eat your goddamn soul." 

You look around the table. Maybe Nepeta was once a joke to these people - Coalition Captains and Commanders, Free Alternian Shipleaders and Psionics. You've released enough footage from Losat to fix that.

You lean on the table. It's an extrusion from the deck, the same sturdy polymer built for a firefight. You crack it loudly. "The second issue is with anyone getting ideas about round two." You smile, but nobody is calmed. "I'd like to think we're past xenophobia and we've rejected conflict. A reminder anyway. You both have Dersetech and know how much it can destroy. There are Alternians that _know_ Earth's coordinates. There are humans that _know_ the Veil's. And there's Project Hybrid. Once the test wave is born there are 30,000 slated for the next batch - spread across ten unknown planets. If you can't keep our species from tearing each other apart, maybe our kids can."

You stand. "Any questions?"

"The plan has a distinct lack of _you_ , Fleet Captain. Where are you planning to be?" Captain Lincoln, First Fleet, is a real prodding, piercing kind of guy who never lets anything rest.

Which is just what you like about him, what with being demi-siblings. Ugh, that's a terrible phrase. But no, _products of the same genetic experiment_ doesn't work either, Head Rose. Whatever. He's family, even if Frank's genetic material doesn't come from any of your progenitors and he was raised separately like everyone else in the genemod experiment.

"Difficult to say. Metaphysically speaking we may not exist in that particular timeframe." You smile widely and squeeze as much honesty into that grin as you can. Across the table, Dave rolls his eyes at your flagrantly half-assed understanding of his niche, while Karkat frowns. Which is not actually much of a change! But you're still pretty sure he's adding this to the list of half-hints you've let slip about Project Cahoots. He'll figure it out before you tell everyone, you're sure. Dude's read up on just about every single human revolution from the pre-Industrial Era to the Fall of the Dominion, in prep work for his own grand rebellion. You're pretty sure he's seen the common flaws as well. Karkat's a smart dude!

Captain Franklin Lincoln isn't really satisfied with that answer, but he doesn't have anything else to ask right now. Man, you are friends with _so many_ brooders!

You think it's infecting you. Or you would've just asked Dad and shared his answer already.

"Why us?" Metapsychic Randis. Counter-espionage agent, Veil Defense Fleet. Her English is heavily buzzed by Alternian inflection. "I see none of ambition nor exception here."

"That's kind of the point, really." You draw it out, not as much as Dave's accent would but slow enough for emphasis. "People frustrated with their careers or convinced they're special tend to make shitty revolutionaries and common dictators."

"Where exactly do you fit on that scale, Fleet Captain?" Commander Watanabe, Sol Defense Fleet Beta. The kind of CO that actually runs the numbers. Solid, reliable, from what you've read. You're sure your reputation is less impressive to her.

"Entirely too far in the wrong direction, Commander. I don't want any more fame, power, or control. I'm uncomfortable with the amount I have already. That's why I set this group up to function without me." You had to mentally edit ~~conspiracy~~ ->group, because you know you should be honest with _yourself_ about this being a criminal endeavor but that doesn't mean you have to harass everyone else with it! They know, anyway. You picked for sense of duty and justice. And self-sacrifice.

"We're done here. Like the man said, you don't need some cam-hungry famehounds getting in the way of the actual work. We'll draw the attention. You make plans. And at the end everybody gets a disarmed democracy free of charge." Dave, speech done, stands up and nods.

You and Karkat follow. They need to rise or fall on their own.

Your first baby revolution. Time to let it leave the nest.

 

 _Sovereign Slayer_ shipboard time **0800 hours** , Coalition Calendar **May 5th, 2415**

You love the view here.

Your family designed a warship as powerful for the kilo as anything either species has. You were the one who put together the bridge schema, and you gave it the retractable armor.

So here you can stand, on the bridge of the _Sovereign Slayer_ , and stare through the invisible glass and fields at the stars.

You adopt a stiff commanding pose. The kind of thing you always get in the simmed media images of you, the fictive parts of your vid serial.

It cracks you the fuck up, because they make you out to be _so fucking serious_. Karkat and Rose made up a drinking game based on the serial, and started dubbing over your lines with more accurate ones, if not quite as dignified.

But hey, you _can_ stand like this if you feel like it, when you're alone. You can do foolish acts for ironically humorous reasons. After all, you fucked Dave. _Bam, double meaning_.

Until someone catches you.

"Fleet Captain." Wow. Eq's getting better at the world-of-law, voice-of-sarcasm skill every officer should have.

"John!" Standing straight. Dramatic pose maintained. Just because ninety kilos of troll are climbing you and using your back-clasped hands as footrests doesn't mean you need to - _ow ow ow_ \- move.

"Hey, guys." Dignity not compromised. Troll-cat chewing on your ear, dignity still not- hee hee. Who're you kidding? Like you give a shit about dignity.

"You are actually on shift per schedule for once, Captain." You hear the smooth slide of Eq moving into his station. He only suffers to perform dramatic poses after he's run morning diagnostics.

"Don't worry, I'm just here to watch the stars, not to do any actual work." Nepeta has moved on to perching her hands and claws on your head. There's a difference in tone between the casual violence between you and her and you and Vriska. There's not always a difference in trauma, whether it's done because of a confidence in your strength or a need to test it.

"What're you watching for?" Nep finally hops down.  
Oh, that's one other difference, she wipes your blood off instead of licking it off. "Stars don't change much!"

"Not from this location at any rate."

Well, you jumped outside the galaxy for a reason. Nicer view. Big view too.

### pulse

The galactic core spasms, engulfs everything, rushes through you.

The ship rattles and roars, groaning like bulkheads are going to start snapping, dies off, then reverberates back into full force for a second blast before vanishing for good.

"Was that… honking?" When it comes to draining all the blood from your face, trolls definitely go whiter than humans. Equius's hands are frozen at his console.

You stare at the Milky Way, each star's light, dozens to hundreds of thousands of years old, suddenly and inexplicably a bright green.

"Yeah. I think that was the starting horn." You whirl around, snap an arm at the pilot's seat. Nepeta runs without waiting for words. You dive into the command chair and strap in.

"So let's _**fucking punch it!**_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t1CK t0ck 8r8k H34DS honk HONK


End file.
